


aftertaste.

by dylaesthetics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Birthday Party, Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, F/F, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Malira, Soulmates, Spin the Bottle, Stydia, inspired by the love potion in harry potter, minor Scisaac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylaesthetics/pseuds/dylaesthetics
Summary: Lydia frowned, “So you have no idea who it is?”“I think I’d know,” said Stiles. “I might not be as smart as you, but I’m still good at being a detective, you know, finding clues.” Lydia laughed, covering her mouth. “What’s so funny?” asked Stiles, raising an eyebrow.Lydia sucked her teeth, skimming her palms over her thighs, “You’re not as good as you think you are.”_OR a soulmate AU, in which Stiles takes far too long to catch up to Lydia.
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura
Kudos: 65





	aftertaste.

**RULEBOOK:**

SOULMATES - two people destined to be together

ELIXIR - a potion created to help soulmates find their other half

HOURGLASS NECKLACE - an accessory containing the ELIXIR that must be worn until a person’s SEVENTEENTH

SEVENTEENTH - the birthday on which a person can OPEN their HOURGLASS and check their SCENTS from one midnight to the next

SCENTS - three SCENTS distinctive to the person’s soulmate

OPENING - the process of a person smelling their ELIXIR

PLACING - the process of a person realising who their SOULMATE is after their OPENING

CONJOINING - the ceremony of two SOULMATES uniting their NECKLACES and SOULS

  
  


Garden strawberries, those his family throws into buckets each summer. The opening of a freshly printed book, carrying a story completed not long ago, either. Vanilla, at least what vanilla ice cream smells like to him on a warm day.

The three SCENTS hinting at who his SOULMATE is, three SCENTS that Stiles picked up from his love ELIXIR on his SEVENTEENTH birthday, alike everyone his age. The three SCENTS that Stiles could not assign to anyone he’d already known.

Until he revisited moments in his life he’d overlooked one too many times.

* * *

_ dandelion  _ ( _ vol.  _ **I** _ ; age  _ **VI** )

Stiles didn’t like the kids in his class and the kids in his class didn’t like him. He got picked last for a team in P.E each time and picked  _ on  _ when their teachers left the room.

At lunchtime - his favourite part of the school day, he wouldn’t go to the cafeteria - no one would sit beside him, anyway. Instead, he’d sneak out into the fenced garden in the backyard. Lunchtime was the only time their playground was deserted. He’d hop on the swings and munch on the contents of the lunchbox his mum packed and slipped into his backpack every morning. He’d swing slowly, taking a moment to look at the clouds and the meadow behind the fence.

Only on this particular April noon, Stiles wasn’t alone in the backyard.

“There’s a hole in the fence,” said a voice of a stranger. “Wanna go?”

Stiles looked down from the sky, facing a girl in a flower-pattern dress, with her red hair braided into a flower crown. He’d seen her in class but never up close, as her face was usually hidden behind a book. Just like Stiles, she never talked to their classmates.

“Uh,” Stiles uttered, gaping. He swallowed a big bite of his sandwich, “Why?”

The girl smiled, “I wanna see the dandelions.”

“They’re not that pretty,” Stiles shrugged, biting into his sandwich again. He didn’t understand why this girl was bothering him. She was probably mean like the rest of their classmates.

“ _ I _ think they are. They’re like the Sun. Yellow and warm, and happy,” she looked up, squinting at the Sun. “Did you know that dandelions move with it? That they close up when it sets?”

Stiles’ eyes opened wider, “Uh, no. That’s cool.”

The girl watched him as he swallowed the rest of his lunch, her hands connected over her stomach.

“Do you wanna go then, uh, Miec-? Miscie-” The girl’s eyebrows furrowed as she failed to pronounce his name. Stiles laughed; no one ever could.

“My mum and dad call me Stiles,” he explained. “What’s  _ your  _ name?”

“I’m Lydia,” she smiled out, offering him her hand. Stiles stared at it with eyebrows raised but took it, beaming back.

* * *

_ strawberry  _ ( _ vol.  _ **II** _ ; age  _ **X** )

It seemed like a question simple enough. Maybe a little out of the blue, at the top of the Ferris wheel at the town fair, hanging over Beacon Hills from a bird’s point of view, but that’s how Lydia always approached something more serious than a game they played. Like when Lydia discussed a book she’d read that she didn’t quite understand the meaning of before handing it over to Stiles.

“Do you think we’ll be friends forever?”

She asked it simply, like any ten-year-old would. Yet, for some reason, Stiles pinched his lips and looked at her with his head tilted in surprise.

“How long is forever?” asked Stiles. It’s not that he didn’t know. He wanted to hear how long a forever was to the girl in the red dress beside him on the wheel, whose knuckles had turned white from holding onto the railing a little too tightly. She didn’t appreciate being so high up, but she tried her best to hide it from her best friend. Stiles wanted to put his hand over hers, but the thought of holding her hand made him even more afraid than letting go of the railing for a moment.

“A really really long time. Like until we look like my granny and our hair is grey,” said Lydia.

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Oh, I don’t want my hair to be grey! I like it as it is,” he admitted.

“Yeah,” Lydia glanced at him sideways, studying him, “Your hair is like chocolate!”

“And yours is…” Stiles paused, studying her wind-caught hair just the same, “I don’t know that colour.”

Lydia beamed, her cheeks flushing red, “My granny says it’s strawberry blonde, like Little Mermaid’s. She reads it to me before bed.”

“You read that movie?” Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed. 

Lydia rolled her eyes, “It was a book first.” 

Stiles looked over the town at the laughing strangers and friends, some biting into their cotton candy sticks, others carrying plush toys twice their height, as their cabin reached the bottom and the two friends were asked to jump down.

“Where d’you wanna go next?” Stiles turned to Lydia, hurrying past the line to the wheel.

She shrugged, stopping in the middle of the crowd, “I don’t care. As long as you go with me.”

* * *

_ sea salt  _ ( _ vol.  _ **III** _ ; age  _ **XV** )

“I can’t believe you’re fifteen. You’ve only got two years left until the ELIXIR,” Kira examined his HOURGLASS NECKLACE and the still, white potion trapped within the glass hanging over Stiles’ shirt, jealousy creeping into her voice.

He was sitting at the back of the bus with Kira, Malia, Isaac and Scott on a field trip to San Francisco. Normally, Stiles wouldn’t occupy such a seat - he and Lydia would sit together at the front, sharing earbuds as they peeked at the scenery through the window curtains. Normally, Lydia and Stiles wouldn’t argue either, not even over who’d eat the last cookie. Now, however, Lydia and Stiles hadn’t uttered a sound to one another in almost a week, since Stiles’ birthday party, when he’d told her he’d be going to their first high school dance with a girl he’d kissed during Truth or Dare. Between his first kiss and birthday party, Stiles had quite forgotten about their deal - going to the dance together -, leaving Lydia partnerless.

Stiles glanced over to the front, where Lydia sat alone with both earbuds in, facing the window on her right, her hair almost matching the flower field the bus drove past.

Both of them had looked forward to this field trip. It wasn’t often they left Beacon Hills, not to mention travel to the ocean. Bitterly, Stiles turned his hand into a fist and hit the window mildly.

“Are you still not talking?”

Stiles forced himself to shift his gaze to Scott, shaking his head. Scott’s eyebrow raised.

“I thought SOULMATES weren’t supposed to argue,” teased Scott, earning a punch in the shoulder from Stiles.

“For the hundredth time, Lydia  _ isn’t  _ my SOULMATE,” Stiles explained as Scott stroked the spot he’d hit, “We’re…”

“Best friends, yeah,” Scott cut him off. “You know that’s bullshit.  _ I’m  _ your best friend. She’s your…”

“Oh, shut up,” said Stiles before Scott could finish. Scott seemed to ignore him, anyway, leaning back in his seat as if all of his assumptions had been proven true, “I think that maybe you were so excited to go to the dance with Cora because you were scared of the reality hitting you if you’d gone with Lydia. Like realising that you have a crush on her and so does-”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll say who  _ your  _ crush is out loud right now,” Stiles shot a glance at Isaac, who sat the farthest from him, engaged in a conversation with Malia.

Scott’s eyes widened, “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t test me,” said Stiles victoriously.

For the rest of the ride, Scott didn’t dare to mention Lydia again. While his friends discussed the places they would visit in their spare hours in the afternoon, Stiles situated his cheek against the cool bus window with his earbuds in. Every once in a while, he would glance over at Lydia, who seemed to have fallen asleep as her head bounced against the window. If he’d sat beside her, Lydia would’ve used his shoulder as a pillow, like always. Stiles exhaled in frustration, shutting his eyelids. The cold surface relieved his growing headache.

Before he knew it, someone was shaking his shoulders. Disoriented, Stiles’ eyelids fluttered open and Scott’s excited expression filled his view.

“We’re here. You fell asleep,” he said, offering his hand. Stiles ditched it, holding the seat handle in front of him for balance instead. Stiles reached up for his backpack in the compartment above his seat but then stopped suddenly.

“Wait, I… I, uh, have to wake Lydia up,” Stiles’ voice came out creaky. His mind was foggy, but he couldn’t tell whether from his nap or the window of the bus hitting his head over and over while he’d slept. Scott let out a small laugh, “You have an unhealthy obsession with her. You’re not talking anymore, remember?”

Stiles hissed, punching Scott’s shoulder again. “Besides, she’s already outside,” Scott pointed at a familiar strawberry blonde head through the window. Lydia stood alone, clutching tightly onto the straps of her backpack, a few feet from the growing crowd of students, formed on the stone pavement of a promenade. Stiles’ chest warmed up as he noticed her eyes searching the crowd. Then, her gaze focused on someone across the crowd and she walked towards them. Stiles felt his heart drop when Lydia approached their new classmate Jackson, who she beamed at.

“Stiles, let’s go,” Scott urged him, setting him off his trance. Finally, Stiles grabbed his backpack and headed for the exit. Before hopping off the bus, they grabbed a hotel key from their teacher Miss Brown.

Kira, Malia and Isaac stood by the exit, speaking in hushed voices about what Stiles bet was no other than Lydia’s new friend. Stiles tried to look anywhere else, but he caught himself glancing at Lydia and Jackson while his friends laughed over something Isaac had said.

“Hey,” a vaguely familiar voice called from the crowd. Stiles searched for the speaker, meeting eyes with a beaming Cora, “What room are you in?”

“Uh,” Stiles looked down at the key he’d been practically tearing apart with his tight hold, “Six-ten, yours?”

“Five-sixteen,” Cora’s smile dropped, “Sucks. Erica and I brought a couple of beers. You can come to our room later if you’d like.”

“I’m not really interested,” uttered Stiles automatically, meeting eyes with Lydia across the crowd. Her mouth opened slightly, but Lydia turned her head back to Jackson as soon as she noticed who he was talking to.

“You’re not interested?” Cora asked louder. Scott, Isaac, Kira and Malia stopped talking at once, shooting curious glances their way. Stiles sighed, shifting his attention to Cora.

“Look,” he said, taking her hand and leading her aside from his friend group, “We’re not dating. You know that, right?”

Cora’s eyebrows furrowed, “We aren’t?”

Stiles bit on his lip, moving his chin down, “I mean we just kissed once. That’s it.”

“Did you forget the part where you asked me to the dance?” Cora raised her voice once again.

“About that… I don’t…” Anxiety crept into Stiles’ voice as he met eyes with Cora, whose cheeks had turned a slight shade of pink, “I don’t think I want to go to the dance with you anymore.”

Now that Stiles thought about it, he couldn’t understand why he ever mumbled the question to Cora in the first place.

“Why?” Cora spewed through clenched teeth.

“I…” Stiles didn’t know what to tell her. He caught himself glancing at Lydia again as if the sight of her could help him find an excuse.

Cora hissed, “You have a thing for her? Lydia, right? She was at your party.”

“I  _ don’t _ have a thing for her!” Stiles protested angrily, “She’s just… I was already supposed to go with her. As friends.”

Cora eyed him suspiciously, “Yeah, good luck with that,” she said sarcastically, patting on his shoulder once before running back to her friend Erica.

“That went well,” said Scott with a grin spread across his face when Stiles turned up to his side.

“Yeah, shut up.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Stiles followed the crowd of his classmates through one tourist attraction to another, occasionally gossiping about the strangers they passed to his friends. Regardless of how much he enjoyed their company, Stiles wished he could walk around with just Lydia instead. Yet every time he tried to approach her, whether by an exhibit at an art gallery or outside a cafe their group dined in, Lydia was deep in conversation with Jackson or Allison, their new classmate.

It wasn’t until their teachers announced a two-hour break that Stiles spotted Lydia alone at last. She sat on the side of the promenade with crossed arms, watching the sun set slowly behind the sea.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Stiles notified his friends, who were wondering if any of the promenade ice cream stands were still open. They waved him a quick goodbye.

As Stiles tiptoed towards Lydia, the evening air cooled the tip of his nose, making him shudder. He could imagine the goosebumps covering Lydia’s skin, with nothing but a dress protecting it from the ocean wind.

“Can I sit with you?” asked Stiles when he was within a few feet of her. Lydia didn’t look up, her eyes still focused on the sun.

“No.”

Stiles shuddered again, unsure whether from the wind or Lydia’s cool response. “Can I stand here then?”

Lydia shrugged, “As you wish.”

Awkwardly, Stiles stood in silence beside her, hearing her teeth chatter even over the thunder of the ocean waves. “Do you want a hoodie?” he asked carefully. “I have an extra in my bag.”

Lydia didn’t answer for a moment, as if considering his offer. Finally, she looked up at him with an annoyed expression. “ _ Only _ if it’s the red one,” she revealed, restraining from a smile.

“Luck is on your side,” Stiles pronounced, settling down on the pavement beside her and pulling Lydia’s favourite hoodie to sleep with from the bottom of his bag. He passed it to her in silence and she accepted it unwillingly.

“Why are you here?” Lydia asked once she’d pulled the hoodie over her head and hidden her hands inside its pocket.

“Field trip. Thought you knew,” joked Stiles. 

“You’re not funny,” said Lydia, turning away from Stiles’ gaze to conceal her smile. “I thought I told you I don’t want to talk to you,” she looked back at him, recovered.

“Yet here you are, talking to me,” Stiles stated. “Now that we’ve settled that, can I ask you something?”

“Get it over with.”

Stiles hesitated, searching his mind for the right way to approach her. He settled for ‘simple’, “D’you want to go to the dance after all? With me?”

Lydia let out a surprised laugh, eyeing him suspiciously, “What? Did Cora bail out?”

Stiles shook his head, “I told her I changed my mind. That I was supposed to go with you.”

Something in Lydia’s eyes shifted but just as quickly, the usual apathy in them returned. “Stiles, this is why you’re helpless without me. You’re not supposed to tell that to your girlfriend,” Lydia forced out the last word, pouting her lips.

“She’s  _ not  _ my girlfriend. Or my  _ anything  _ for that matter,” Stiles objected, shuffling in his seat. “But you’re right. I  _ am  _ helpless without you. Can we just return to our normal selves?”

Lydia looked back at the sunset, her hair blowing in her face. Stiles almost reached over to pull it back behind her ear, but she was quicker.

“Sure,” she said triumphantly, meeting his eyes with a grin. Stiles exhaled in relief. “Even though you are  _ incredibly  _ annoying, I think I tolerate your presence more than absence,” Lydia admitted.

“Is that your way of saying you missed me?” Stiles asked, afraid he’d gone too far just yet but Lydia dismissed it completely.

“Maybe,” she smiled out. “We did promise each other to stay together no matter what, didn’t we?”

Together. Not ‘stay friends’. ‘Stay together’. Stiles liked that.

“It’d take more than a stupid fight to get rid of me. That’s another promise,” Stiles pulled out his hand from his own hoodie’s pocket, offering it to Lydia. Within seconds, Lydia connected their pinky fingers, lingering hers around Stiles’. Lydia dropped her hand on his knee, its palm touching his. Stiles didn’t move it, blaming his reluctance on its unexpected warmth.

He cleared his throat, “Do you want to go to the Golden Gate bridge with me tomorrow? I heard there’s a small group leaving before sunrise with Miss Brown.”

“I’d love that,” she squeezed his hand before she let go, observing him thoroughly. Unsure what to do with his suddenly cold hand now, Stiles waved it in the direction of the rest of their friends. Lydia understood, pulling her backpack’s straps up her shoulders and brushing off the sand from her dress before getting up. Stiles turned around, starting to walk towards their friends until he heard high heels click against the pavement twice and felt a hand land on his back. He stopped at once, turning back to her.

“Stiles,” Lydia uttered almost inaudibly.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly realised her hand was still on Stiles’ back, Lydia dropped it awkwardly, heat rising in her cheeks. “I don’t want to go to the dance,” she disclosed. “Do you just want to watch a movie with me? We can even watch  _ Star Wars _ ,” she added with a grin.

Stiles’ eyes lit up. “Yes, please,” he pushed himself towards Lydia, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered into her ear in excitement, holding her momentarily before leaning away. Lydia stood with her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide, and Stiles couldn’t understand why until the realisation that they had never hugged before hit him. He guessed that must’ve been it.

“The others are waiting. We should probably head to the hotel soon,” Stiles broke the tense silence that was forming between them. “What’s your room, by the way?” he asked once they’d started walking.

“Six-oh-nine,” Lydia forced out in a croaky voice, moping beside him with her arms crossed once again.

“We’re next door then. If you hear any weird noises, it’s probably Scott,” Stiles joked, glancing at Lydia for a reaction but her expression didn’t change.

For the rest of the night, both on their way back to the rest of their classmates and in Scott and Stiles’ hotel room, watching a movie, Lydia barely spoke, appearing so deep in thought it was almost like she’d been pulled to another universe.

But when they were woken up the following morning, the searching expression had vanished from Lydia’s face.

* * *

_ paper  _ ( _ vol.  _ **IV** _ ; age  _ **XVI** )

Reluctantly turning the next page of his biology book, Stiles groaned.

“What now?” Lydia asked impatiently. She lied on her stomach across Stiles’ bed with a bored expression and a book placed in front of her, while Stiles held his head in his hands over his desk.

“I still have eight pages to go and about this little patience remaining,” Stiles showed her an almost non-existent gap between his thumb and index finger. “How far have you got, anyway?”

“I finished five minutes ago,” Lydia said, studying her painted nails.

“Of course you did,” Stiles uttered under his nose, turning back to his book at an attempt to read the first line, something about the science behind the SOULMATE HOURGLASS.

“I can help you, you know that, right?” Lydia affirmed, shifting her gaze to Stiles. “I’ve read through this book about five times by now. What’s confusing you?”

Stiles read the first line again before facing Lydia, who was now balancing her chin on her palms. “How can they use the same ingredients to create an ELIXIR distinctive to everyone in the world? How is that possible?”

“ _ That’s  _ your question when there is some invisible force uniting people together that no one has been able to explain yet?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “But the answer is quite simple. It’s nothing to do with the ingredients but rather the memories people have attached to the SCENTS. Everyone’s sense of smell is different, and your nose is really what decides your attraction. If given more than twenty-four hours, who knows, maybe the person’s SCENT preference would change and so would their SOULMATE. It’s only a theory, though.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. For all of his life, he’d never questioned the ELIXIR or all its rules. As Juniors, to be celebrating their SEVENTEENTH this year, SOULMATE studies were compulsory, and the more Stiles read about the SOULMATE theory, the more questions raised in his head.

“Is that why you don’t believe in SOULMATES?” Stiles asked cautiously.

“I never said I don’t,” Lydia defended herself, rising up to her knees. “I just don’t think an ELIXIR is what should decide who you’re spending the rest of your life with. Shouldn’t you have the choice yourself?”

“But it’s always been like this,” justified Stiles.

Lydia moved to the head of his bed, hugging his pillow to her chest. “What about the people who never find their SOULMATES? Should they stay alone for their lifetimes? People are made to believe that the ELIXIR is the only way to find your SOULMATE. I don’t believe that.  _ Some  _ people know who their SOULMATE is without ever smelling the ELIXIR,” Lydia broke their eye contact, placing her head on the pillow.

Stiles rose from his chair, staggering towards his bed. He flumped on the mattress, facing Lydia, who avoided his gaze. “Are you so fired up about this because your SEVENTEENTH is a month away?” Stiles asked.

Lydia buried her face in the pillow, “Don’t remind me.”

“Do you think you’ve met them? Your SOULMATE? And that you’ll know who it is at your OPENING?” Stiles scooted over to Lydia’s side, their shoulders brushing. Lydia threw the pillow on her lap, “Like I said, I don’t want some potion telling me who I should love.”

“You’re saying that just because you’re scared of loving someone,” stated Stiles. Lydia turned to him swiftly with a pouty look.

“No, I’m not,” she panted out with a heaving chest.

“So many people have asked you out. Yet you never say yes. Why’s that?” asked Stiles.

“I don’t want to go out with someone I don’t like,” Lydia crossed her arms. For a moment, her pouted lips reminded Stiles of when she was younger, when she’d still worn her hair up, tying it together with a red headband, when neither of them worried about their SEVENTEENTH because it was simply what felt like a lifetime away.

“It’s not like you like anyone. How could you when you reject everyone? When are you supposed to find them?” Stiles asked. Lydia’s eyes darkened as she bit her lip at his words, smearing her lipstick. Stiles moved his hand to her cheek, brushing the stain away with his thumb. Lydia’s face tensed at first but by the time Stiles couldn’t spot the smear anymore, her body had relaxed.

“Fine. I’ll tell you,” Lydia said suddenly.

“Tell me what?”

She tilted her head, stretching her arm out over his pillow, “I am in  _ some _ way looking forward to the OPENING.”

“I knew it!” Stiles cheered. “You’re secretly a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not,” Lydia lied. “I just want to see if the ELIXIR’s a scam or not,” she covered her mouth with the pillow as soon as her words had come out.

Stiles gaped at her in both excitement and surprise, “So you  _ do  _ think you’ve already met your SOULMATE?”

“It’s only a guess,” said Lydia.

“Who?”

Lydia let out a chuckle. “Some guy who probably has no idea.”

“That you exist?”

Lydia grabbed the pillow and hit Stiles with it hard, “If you’re going to be mean, I am never talking to you again,” Lydia declared without any prominent sincerity in her voice. “In fact, I’ll stop now or we’ll fail tomorrow’s test.”

“As if you have ever got a grade lower than A,” Stiles said enviously.

“Lower than A+,” Lydia corrected.

“ _ Why _ do you even come over here all the time to study?” Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed. “You’re too smart.”

Lydia’s eyes lit up at the compliment, “Because without me,  _ you  _ wouldn’t be revising.”

Stiles laughed heartily, “Thanks, Lydia. But I could still do this without you.”

“Oh, really?” Lydia dedicated one of her rare smugs to him. “Prove it then.”

“How?”

“I’ll go home,” Lydia scooted to the edge of the bed. “And tomorrow you have to get a higher score than me,” she shot him one last glance before getting up.

Stiles’ jaw dropped, “That is  _ literally  _ humanly impossible. No one has ever scored higher than you.”

“I want to see you try,” said Lydia, tying the shoelaces of her sneakers by his door. “And if you score higher, I’ll tell you who he is.”

Without another word, Lydia waved her goodbyes and shut the door to Stiles’ room behind her, leaving Stiles with a dropped jaw.

To no one’s surprise, Lydia still scored higher than Stiles the following morning.

* * *

_ vanilla  _ ( _ vol.  _ **V** _ ; age  _ **XVI / XVII** )

On the second most important day of his life - his best friend’s SEVENTEENTH, Stiles was lucky enough to even make it in time to Lydia’s party at ten in the evening. While Stiles had wished to get a day-off at his job to spend it with Lydia, his boss had ordered him to stay two hours after his shift instead.

With flowers in one hand and a gift bag hanging from his other wrist, Stiles buzzed the doorbell to Lydia’s house. His insides were churning as he waited for someone to let him in; had he missed to see his best friend’s blue-glowing ELIXIR, which only did so for twenty-four hours in one’s lifetime? As he reached for the button again, the door opened suddenly. The ceiling light of Lydia’s house’s entrance hall shone on his face, blinding him until his eyes readjusted and it wasn’t just the yellow light illuminating his face. The usual white ELIXIR inside the HOURGLASS around Lydia’s neck was glowing blue now. Or rather,  _ still  _ glowing blue. She hadn’t discovered her SCENTS yet.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, my boss…” Stiles started but Lydia put up her hand.

“Trust me, it means more to you than it does to me,” Lydia smiled sadly, putting a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be having this party.”

Mesmerised by the neon blue, Stiles failed to notice how weakly Lydia was standing with her side pressed against the door at first. When her whole body came into picture, Stiles realised that her words were true. All of Stiles’ enthusiasm about Lydia’s special day vanished with one real glimpse of her.

“Are you alright?” he uttered, concern creeping into his voice.

Lydia nodded faintly, “Yeah, just… Exhausted. Don’t worry about it,” she forced a smile.

“Well, happy birthday,” Stiles pushed the flowers and the gift bag towards Lydia. “Sorry about the gift, my dad insisted on getting you one of those fancy HOURGLASS holders since you won’t have to wear the NECKLACE anymore. The real gift is that I wasn’t here to bother you all day,” he joked and this time Lydia smiled earnestly.

“Thank you,” Lydia accepted it gently, hugging the flowers to her chest to smell them. Her eyes shut momentarily and opened just as quickly, “I’ll go drop it off upstairs but you can come in. Punch’s in the kitchen.” With that, Lydia swung around and sprinted up the stairs, her dullness appearing to have faded all of the sudden.

Feeling oddly empty without the gift, Stiles wandered into Lydia’s kitchen, which looked more of a staging area that the usual neatly-cleaned room. Across the counters stood snacks and half-empty cups while yet-to-be-used ones lay fallen. Lydia’s birthday cake, all sliced-up but barely eaten, decorated the kitchen table. Stiles noticed a familiar figure standing by a large pot in the middle of the kitchen then.

“Stiles,” Jackson’s eyes darkened. “You want some?” he stared at Stiles with a spoonful of punch in his hand, threatening to overflow before he could pour it into his cup.

“No, thanks. Where is everyone?” Stiles asked, grabbing a chocolate cookie he’d found on the counter.

“The pool,” Jackson nudged his head towards the door to Lydia’s backyard. “They’re deciding on what party games to play.”

Without hesitation, as Stiles didn’t particularly enjoy Jackson’s presence, Stiles pushed the door to the pool open, exposing himself to the music he couldn’t hear before and quite a crowd of Lydia’s friends sat in a circle by the fairy light reflective surface of her pool.

“Never have I ever?” offered Allison when Stiles had almost reached the circle.

“Boring,” called Lydia’s voice from behind. Before Stiles could move, Lydia stormed past him and took a seat on Allison’s right. Stiles followed her, taking the only empty spot between her and Isaac and moving aside a shirt left on the cement.

“We can always shot for it,” Malia suggested, receiving some affirming murmurs.

“Come on, Lydia must want to be somewhat sober for her OPENING,” Isaac pointed at her glowing HOURGLASS.

“What then?” asked Malia annoyedly.

“Spin the bottle?” suggested Scott, shooting a glance at Isaac beside him. “It’s traditional for SEVENTEENTHs.”

Stiles felt Lydia stiffen up, yet she pulled a carefree expression, “Now,  _ that’s  _ not boring at all,” she agreed.

“Kira and I are out then,” Malia took Kira’s hand and they scooted outside the circle, “Soulmates and all.” Malia had recently celebrated her SEVENTEENTH and PLACED Kira in her SCENTS. Even though Kira’s SEVENTEENTH wasn’t for another few months and they hadn’t CONJOINED yet, they had already committed to their new status.

“That leaves us nine. Everyone in?” Lydia eyed everyone in the circle, receiving affirmative nods. She lingered her gaze on Stiles. “Sure,” he confirmed more confidently than he felt. His stomach was buzzing with the thought of kissing someone,  _ anyone  _ in the circle. He wasn’t sure if there was anyone he wanted to kiss. Lydia shifted her attention back to the rest of the group with her lips pouted.

“The birthday girl should start,” said Scott, rolling an empty bottle of champagne over to Lydia.

Lydia scoffed, skimming her fingers over the neck of the bottle to stop it, “Do I have to?”

“You signed up for it,” said Malia.

“Spin, Lydia,” encouraged Stiles, grinning at her. Lydia returned the gesture, leaning over the bottle hesitantly.

“Hey, Stiles, I was sitting there,” said a voice from behind Stiles. He swung around, meeting eyes with a swaying Jackson, who waved at the shirt Stiles had tossed aside before, “See? My jersey.”

“I’ll move,” Stiles scooted to his left, pressing his side against Isaac’s to make more room for Jackson, who happily took his seat beside Lydia. He grinned at her but Lydia’s mere focus remained on the bottle that was slowing down now, on what could be its last circle. In what felt like hours, with everyone’s eyes on the prize, the bottle finally stopped spinning, pointing its head towards… 

“Stiles,” called Lydia, staring at the head of the bottle with her eyes widened, while Stiles’ mouth suddenly turned dry. “You don’t have to,” she said quietly, connecting their eyes over Jackson’s crossed arms. Stiles stared back, the buzzing feeling in his stomach spreading to the rest of his body.

“‘Tis the point of the game, Lydia,” reminded Scott, suddenly very invested in the game.

“Yeah, but…” Lydia started, her eyes moving from side to side as if she was panicking. If they didn’t just get it over with, Stiles felt like he’d start panicking, too.

“It’s just a kiss,” Stiles interrupted her, dedicating a nervous smile to her. Lydia let her mouth hang open momentarily but then she nodded, waving at Jackson to scoot aside. Muttering something under his nose, Jackson followed her indication; Stiles bet he’d regretted squeezing between Lydia and Stiles now. He’d had feelings for Lydia since the moment she’d walked in the class on the first day of high school, yet Lydia never seemed to pay much attention to him. In some selfish way, Stiles was happy to miss out on seeing her kiss Jackson tonight.

“Get on with it,” called Malia impatiently, her words followed by a shushing crowd. Stiles noticed how the distance between him and Lydia seemed too close and too far simultaneously. Before Stiles could move, Lydia had already leaned over to his face, placing a hand on his cheek softly. Stiles fought the urge to shiver in surprise.

“Just a kiss?” Lydia whispered so only Stiles could hear her but gave him no time to answer, closing the distance between them.

The moment their lips touched, Stiles was certain it wasn’t just a kiss. The middle of his chest heated up like a fire and the same burning sensation radiated from Lydia’s. Stiles’ mind flooded with thoughts about how Lydia’s lips seemed to move with his in perfect sync like they’d kissed a thousand times before. He couldn’t tell how long they were kissing for but when the cheering and laughing Stiles could hear at the back of his mind quietened down, he felt Lydia pulling away. His eyes fluttered open at the loss of her lips on his and, for a millisecond, he saw the fairy lights from around the pool reflecting in her HOURGLASS. Even after Lydia jumped back to her seat with her cheeks flushing in various shades of red, as probably were his, Stiles could taste Lydia’s lip balm on the tip of his tongue. Vanilla.

“I’m next,” said Scott but Stiles barely processed it. As the bottle spun again, Stiles was only looking at Lydia, who completely ignored him, engaged in a conversation with Allison.

Stiles had kissed many girls and boys at parties before, but never had he felt this way - this reluctant to pull away. What if Scott had been right all along, what if Stiles, to some extent,  _ liked  _ Lydia - his dearest friend in the world?

Stiles didn’t linger on the thought for too long as Isaac spoke loudly beside his ear, “Can we move this inside? I’m freezing my ass off over here.”

“Yeah, let’s just go to the living room,” Scott agreed, rising from his seat lazily. The others followed his example and, all of the sudden, Stiles found himself standing up with the help of Lydia’s hand. In other circumstances, he would’ve thought nothing of it, but this time, Lydia’s hand seemed warmer than ever before. Stiles glanced at their interlaced fingers before Lydia let go of his, separated by Jackson, who was, purposefully or not, pushing him towards the door inside.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Stiles heard Kira ask Lydia from behind as he stepped over the threshold. He looked back at them through the window. Kira was raving as she pointed at Lydia’s HOURGLASS, while Lydia looked at her in disbelief. Stiles looked away, afraid of invading their privacy, and lumbered to the kitchen, wanting to down a cup or two of punch after all.

For the next hour, Stiles chatted with the people he knew, occasionally tiptoeing to the other room for more punch. The butterflies squirming in his stomach were now replaced by a different kind of buzz. As Stiles left his friends for the fourth spoonful, the pot had been emptied. He hopped back to the living room to update Lydia, only then noticing that she wasn’t a part of their circle. In fact, he hadn't seen her since the pool.

Leaving his empty cup on the top of Lydia’s fireplace, he searched the house for her without luck. Through Lydia’s bedroom’s window, half-way covered by a pile of presents, Stiles finally spotted her on the edge of the pool, swaying her bare legs in the water. Stiles watched as Lydia unclasped her glowing NECKLACE, studied it and put it back around her neck three times in a row. As Lydia reached for the clasp a fourth time, Stiles hurried out of her room, down the stairs and past the crowd of Lydia’s friends through the back door.

Stiles’ eyes met the fairy-lit pool and his friend still sitting with her feet in the water. Her arms were crossed and the ELIXIR glowed over the middle of her chest.

“What are you doing out here?” asked Stiles, settling down beside her with his legs crossed beneath him. Lydia didn’t move, focusing on the swaying surface of the water.

“Trying to decide what to do about my HOURGLASS,” she said, her voice breaking.

“It’s almost midnight. You do know that they expire then, right?” Stiles approached her carefully. Lydia tilted her head from side to side, biting her lip hard.

“What if I didn’t OPEN it? What if I just lived my life and didn’t base it off of some stupid potion?” Lydia cried out, her chest moving up and down in frustration. Stiles tried to scoot farther from her to give her space, but Lydia placed her hand on his knee abruptly. When Lydia didn’t move her hand, Stiles placed his on top.

“You only get to do this once and the time’s ticking. What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked, meeting her piercing gaze.

“It’s someone else. It smells like moments with someone else. And then… What am I supposed to do?” Lydia stared at Stiles desperately. “Follow the ELIXIR’s instructions and give up on…” Lydia paused, shutting her mouth as if she’d almost said a bad word.

“Is this about that guy?” Stiles realised, feeling like he’d been hit in the gut. “Do you like him?”

“A lot. Maybe even…” Lydia’s eyes drifted off him, and Stiles felt the same punch again. “Never mind.”

Stiles almost exhaled in relief. But even if he wasn’t particularly keen on whoever Lydia wanted to be her SOULMATE, it was his friend duty to accept them.

“What if it  _ is  _ him? Wouldn’t that be… Like a happy beginning?” asked Stiles, nudging her shoulder. “Isn’t a little risk worth taking when it comes to something so life-changing?”

Lydia bored into Stiles’ eyes as if searching for the answer there, instead of in the words he’d forced out. Finally, she shut her eyes and exhaled, “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.” Lydia squeezed his hand before moving it back to her side.

“I’ll be inside. Come talk to me after, if you want,” offered Stiles, getting up on his feet.

“No!” Lydia cried, making Stiles jump. “Sorry, I just don’t want to be alone when I do this. Can you stay?” she said more gently.

“Of course,” Stiles sat back down, undeniably curious to witness Lydia’s OPENING. As most people preferred to perform their OPENING alone, Stiles had yet to observe the process.

With trembling hands, Lydia unclasped her NECKLACE for the last time. She let the HOURGLASS land on her palm before unscrewing the lid and releasing grey fumes from the opening. “You can do this,” whispered Stiles, noticing her heaving chest. She nodded quickly, shutting her eyes as she cautiously moved the fumes to her nose and inhaled the potion, which smelled like nothing to Stiles but everything to her.

Stiles observed her patiently, squinting and relaxing her eyelids as she absorbed the three SCENTS unique to her SOULMATE.

“It smells like the best thing I’ve ever smelled. It’s like…” she paused, sniffing the ELIXIR once more. “Dandelion milk,” Lydia called excitedly. “And… And salt, no, sea salt, like when you’re at the beach,” Lydia explained. “And like… Cinnamon buns,” her eyebrow raised at the last SCENT.

Stiles waited for her eyelids to flutter open and a single tear to escape from the corner of her eyes until he asked, “Could it be him?”

Lydia remained silent for an excruciatingly long minute, searching through her mind so intently, Stiles swore he could hear the buzz of her thoughts. 

“I don’t know yet. This ELIXIR thing’s all very obscure,” Lydia admitted. “But I think I can PLACE two.”

“Two’s great,” Stiles cheered while his insides burned with such jealousy he hadn’t yet experienced in his almost seventeen years on Earth. “My mum couldn’t even PLACE  _ one  _ in dad, even though they’d been friends forever. Ask him his SCENTS on his birthday. Maybe it  _ is  _ you,” Stiles rambled on, trying to push the ache out of his chest.

“That would be… Happy,” Lydia grinned with her gaze on Stiles, putting her no-longer-glowing, newly-grey-coloured HOURGLASS NECKLACE in her pocket. “Let’s go,” suggested Lydia.

Even though she would never admit it out loud, the OPENING lifted her spirits and, for the rest of her party, Lydia didn’t have to force her smile.

* * *

_ cinnamon  _ ( _ vol.  _ **VI** _ ; age  _ **XVII** )

For as long as Stiles could remember, he dreamed of the perfect way to spend his SEVENTEENTH. He’d taken enough notes from his favourite SOULMATE movies to make the most out of what he considered the most important twenty-four hours of his life. When the day finally arrived, however, Stiles was in no mood to do anything other than getting lunch with his classmates and throwing a party with his friends. All because of Lydia.

Until two months ago, Stiles hadn’t once questioned the powers of the ELIXIR, yet one conversation with Lydia changed his mind. What if the process the world had acclimated to wasn’t the default? What if nobody needed an ELIXIR to tell who their SOULMATE is? What if every human had their own choice? Stiles had heard of some SOULMATE-less humans pairing up and spending a happy lifetime together. For some time, he’d even been afraid of them. But now, he couldn’t help but think it made perfect sense. Even if Stiles OPENED his HOURGLASS today and was unable to PLACE anyone, he wouldn’t take it to heart. Lydia assured that it was not a worthy worry.

“Here are your drinks,” Stiles was put out of his trance by the waiter, who struggled with holding a plate full of cups in various sizes, each for every classmate of Stiles’ chatting around the large table. Stiles pushed his chair back and helped her hand out the cups, taking his own coffee last and sitting back down. Across the table from him, Lydia and Allison chuckled over some video they’d taken of Stiles at school earlier. Lydia’s eyes shone as they watched the video over and over.

“Lydia, could you pass me the cinnamon, please?” asked Stiles, noticing the shaker beside her hot chocolate. Lydia froze mid-laugh, meeting eyes with Stiles. A frown replaced her smile and, beside her, Allison’s jaw dropped slightly.

“What?” asked Lydia, growing paler by the second. Stiles furrowed his brows, “The cinnamon. For my coffee,” he waved at his fuming drink.

Lydia remained frozen, her phone hanging weakly at the tips of her fingers. Allison reached for the shaker and passed it around the circle until Stiles got a hold of it. As he drizzled the cinnamon on the whipped cream, Lydia and Allison excused themselves from the group.

The rest of the lunch went as ordinarily as ever - not even once did Stiles feel like his OPENING day had come. Not when his classmates wished him luck on PLACING his SOULMATE as they left the cafe one after another, or when strangers on the street complimented his glowing NECKLACE. Not when - out of everyone -  _ Lydia  _ commented on his NECKLACE when she arrived at Stiles’ door hours later, coming to help him prepare for the party. “Still glowing? Woah,” she’d called, almost disappointedly. “I figured you’d be one of those people who OPEN the HOURGLASS the second their SEVENTEENTH starts, to be honest.”

Half an hour before Stiles’ friends would arrive, Lydia and Stiles lied across his living room sofa, watching whatever cooking show was airing. Lydia noted some recipes she found manageable while Stiles drooled at all the food. Every now and then, Stiles would catch Lydia glancing at his HOURGLASS, which had only about one-quarter of the ELIXIR left in the top half. Yet no matter the number of times she looked, she never asked why he hadn’t OPENED it yet.

“You’ve only got about five minutes left until people come,” Lydia noted when  _ really  _ she was reminding him about the ELIXIR’s expiration. Stiles couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so interested in the ELIXIR when only a couple of weeks ago she’d waited until almost midnight to OPEN hers.

“I don’t think I’ll be OPENING my ELIXIR,” revealed Stiles casually.

Lydia gaped at him, “What?”

“I guess you inspired me. I want to find my SOULMATE without some potion telling me what to do,” Stiles quoted her, grinning, yet Lydia stared at him horrified. 

“No, no, Stiles, you  _ have  _ to OPEN it!” she cried out, making him jump. “It doesn’t matter what I said, you’ve always wanted to.”

“I don’t anymore,” disclosed Stiles. Lydia pinched her lips together tightly, her eyes almost watering.

“You have to OPEN it because…” Lydia scrambled for words but none seemed to come her way. “Because…”

The doorbell rang. Stiles waited for Lydia to finish but when she looked away, facing the TV again, he darted for the door and invited Isaac and Scott in. Since they’d got together on Lydia’s birthday, they’d come everywhere together, unable to leave the other’s side.

During the following hour, the rest of Stiles’ friends arrived and filled his living room with their chatter and laughter, distracting Stiles from any troubling thoughts about his glowing ELIXIR. It wasn’t until he found himself alone in the kitchen with Allison that they returned with full force.

“Why is your ELIXIR still glowing?” asked Allison, taking cups out of his dishwasher.

“Because I’m not planning on OPENING it,” said Stiles, hoping the clattering of dishes would drown out his words. When Allison froze with a cup in the air, Stiles knew they hadn’t.

“Are you joking?” Allison straightened up, shooting him a pouty look. “Weren’t you overly obsessed with the whole idea?”

Stiles shrugged, “Yeah, but Lydia made me change my mind.”

“ _ Lydia  _ did that?” Allison raised an eyebrow, finally setting the cups on the counter.

“You know, if I hadn’t convinced her, she wouldn’t have OPENED hers the other week. She filled my mind with all these theories I’d never considered before…” Stiles paused. “That someone doesn’t need the ELIXIR to find their SOULMATE. That the choice should be up to that person. And it all makes sense.”

“She doesn’t believe in that anymore,” Allison objected. Stiles winced, “What, did something change?”

Allison opened her mouth but closed it immediately, darting a glance at the door to the living room.

“Just OPEN your damn HOURGLASS, Stiles,” she jeered. “If Lydia did it after all, why can’t you?”

Stiles winced; he’d had enough of their secrecy. He had no doubt both of them were hiding something from him now. “Why are you both so obsessed with this tonight? Lydia practically  _ begged  _ me to OPEN it,” he said.

“She’s probably just paranoid of you ruining your life because of something she said,” Allison avoided his eyes. “As am I,” she added.

“Right,” Stiles sulked. “Well, we’ll see. I haven’t set my mind on it completely yet.” Stiles wasn’t sure the last part was true anymore.

Allison eyed him suspiciously, “The next time I see you, that thing’s better not glowing anymore.” She picked up the cups by their handles and stormed out of the kitchen. Stiles watched her as she joined Lydia on the sofa, whispering something into her ear.

He stepped towards the room but stopped in the doorway, taking a closer look at his friends. How Malia kissed some whipped cream off Kira’s nose, making Kira giggle and lean in to kiss her girlfriend on the mouth. How Isaac had placed his head in Scott’s lap and Scott played with his curls, smiling down at him. Both too young for the ELIXIR, the boys still seemed to be in love.

Watching the two couples, Stiles realised he didn’t have either of that. Since there wasn’t anyone in Stiles’ life he’d ever considered a potential SOULMATE, he couldn’t have what Isaac and Scott had if he  _ weren’t  _ to OPEN his HOURGLASS. If he did open it, however, he’d still have a chance at something like Malia and Kira.

Then Stiles glanced at Lydia, who he knew had PLACED her SOULMATE but hadn’t told them yet. A part of him was unusually relieved about it, but he tried to smother the feeling sensibly, convincing himself that he was simply afraid of being SOULMATE-less before his closest friend. Even as kids, Lydia and Stiles would daydream about finding their SOULMATES at the same time so that the other wouldn’t be upset. Yet here they were - seventeen and their rationality had kicked in. The only way Lydia and Stiles would find their SOULMATES at the same time was if they were each other’s. But they weren’t.

Or could they be?

Stiles observed Lydia some more, how her strawberry blonde locks fell over her forehead, her cheeks flushed red from the glass of champagne she’d choked down, and her eyes shone like they’d had earlier as she spoke to Allison passionately. He searched for the answer within the sight of her but it didn’t come. There was only one way to find out.

Stiles swung around and darted towards the entrance to his house, holding his HOURGLASS for support. As he stepped onto the porch, the sunset-coloured sky warned him about the little time that remained until his ELIXIR expired.

Quickly, he settled down on the stairs of his porch, struggling to unclasp his bracelet with his arms behind his back. His fingers trembled as Lydia’s had by the pool of her SEVENTEENTH but before he knew it, he was holding the HOURGLASS in his hand and unscrewing its lid.

Stiles’ eyelids shut involuntarily as the first fumes reached his nostrils. He breathed in deeply, and the SCENTS came to him overwhelmingly. Lydia had been right; it smelled like the best thing he’d ever smelled, it smelled like how love would, like  _ home _ .

> Strawberries.
> 
> Book pages.
> 
> Vanilla.

No matter how long Stiles stood on his porch, smelling the ELIXIR from different angles, he couldn’t PLACE Lydia. Stiles even thought back to Lydia’s SCENTS - dandelions, sea salt and cinnamon -, but he couldn’t PLACE himself in them either. To his utmost disappointment, it wasn’t her.

Stiles chuckled. For a moment, he’d imagined his life if Lydia  _ had _ been his SOULMATE. It seemed almost perfect - they’d already learnt everything about each other. Lydia knew how Stiles liked his coffee and what he dreamed about at night, Stiles knew why Lydia  _ really _ wanted to study at MIT and how afraid she was of revealing her feelings. And when they’d kissed, Stiles couldn’t deny the butterflies that squirmed in his stomach. Yet Stiles’ momentary daydream was destroyed by the ELIXIR’s decision.

The door behind him cracked open and Stiles jumped, almost dropping the expired HOURGLASS on the ground. He shot a glance back, spotting Lydia in the doorway.

“The guys told me to call you for ca-” she paused, her eyes stuck to Stiles’ chest. Stiles smiled at her sadly.

“You OPENED it,” cheered Lydia, her voice thick with relief and something else. Alarm? Anticipation? He couldn’t tell.

“It took some convincing but I did,” Stiles assured, patting the empty spot beside him on the porch. Hesitantly, Lydia followed his gesture. “But I can’t PLACE anything. I think I’ve yet to meet my SOULMATE.”

Lydia’s lips pouted, “What did you smell?” she asked warily.

“Strawberries, book pages and vanilla. You’re right, it’s all obscure,” admitted Stiles.

Lydia frowned, “So you have no idea who it is?”

“I think I’d know,” said Stiles. “I might not be as smart as you, but I’m still good at being a detective, you know, finding clues.” Lydia laughed, covering her mouth. “What’s so funny?” asked Stiles, raising an eyebrow.

Lydia sucked her teeth, skimming her palms over her thighs, “You’re not as good as you think you are.”

“Now, that’s offensive,” Stiles moaned out.

“Well, you still haven’t figured out who the guy is,” Lydia teased, pulling a smug.

“Because you haven’t told me anything!” Stiles cried out. “Give me something.”

“Fine,” said Lydia, rolling her eyes. “Here’s a big one - he was at your birthday lunch today.”

Stiles’ stomach churned; was Lydia’s SOULMATE one of  _ his  _ friends? It made sense, Stiles didn’t take Lydia for someone who fell for someone from afar.

“Scott? No, you wouldn’t like someone taken. That leaves out Isaac, too, then. Theo? Aiden? No, never,” Lydia laughter followed Stiles’ last assumption. “Who else was there? Jackson. Oh my god, it’s Jackson, isn’t it?  _ He  _ likes you. He was so pissed at your birthday party because he almost sat where I-”

“Definitely  _ not  _ Jackson,” Lydia interrupted him, shaking her head. “Or anyone else you mentioned.”

Stiles’ nose crinkled, “But there’s no one left.”

“You forgot one person,” stated Lydia in almost a whisper.

Stiles’ mind buzzed, both from his careful thinking and overwhelming frustration, “Help me out here, please.”

Lydia remained silent, looking into his eyes expectantly. Stiles pictured the table at the cafe in his mind, every person he’d spoken to, still unable to find anyone else that fit Lydia’s faint description. All he could remember was Lydia’s smile and her glowing eyes, and how they froze once meeting his, just like they did now in the light of the sunset sky. He couldn’t find anyone else but… 

“Me?” Stiles whispered, his heartbeat racing in his ear and drowning out the chirping birds, passing cars and muffled music from his living room. “You like  _ me? _ ” he asked louder, blinking rapidly.

Stiles waited for any reaction, from the slightest move of Lydia’s eyelids to darting away into the street, yet Lydia seemed paralysed.

All sound came back to Stiles’ ears when Lydia nodded, uttering, “You see, you’re not  _ that  _ good at discovering clues.”

“You  _ like  _ me,” Stiles repeated, dropping his sweating hands on his lap weakly.

“Well, not exactly,” said Lydia, her voice breaking more with each word. Stiles observed her thoroughly as she tried to continue. “It’s, uh, more than that,” Lydia’s voice was as shaky as the fingers she’d carved into her thighs.

“I love you,” Lydia breathed out as the door to Stiles’ house opened with a creak, startling the pair on the porch. Simultaneously, Lydia and Stiles glanced at the doorway.

“Come you guys, the cake’s ready!” called Scott casually, the tension in the air slipping by his comprehension entirely. Lydia looked away, hugging her knees to her chest while Stiles stared at Scott in panic.

“In a minute!” Stiles called back, hoping the throbbing ache capturing his entire body wasn’t evident in his tone. Scott stood frozen, watching them intently, shifting his gaze from Stiles’ expired HOURGLASS on the ground to Lydia’s trembling body. A realisation hit Scott as his jaw dropped and, quickly, he disappeared back into the house, clicking the door shut behind him.

Stiles turned back to Lydia who looked anywhere but at him with glassy eyes. Stiles realised then how close they were sitting, her knee occasionally brushing against his.

“I’m… I’m confused,” Stiles started, scooting a good foot away from her. He waited for her to face him again to continue, “You said that the guy - well, me, I suppose - you said you could PLACE him. But I couldn’t PLACE myself in your SCENTS. Wouldn’t I be able to recognise myself, like Kira did with Malia’s SCENTS? And wouldn’t I be able to PLACE you in mine? Because I don’t, I thought about it but I just couldn’t. And maybe… Maybe you’re only seeing it because you want it to be me?”

Lydia’s mouth fell open. She looked away once again, struggling to keep her tears from dancing down her cheeks. Watching her, Stiles’ eyes glistened, too.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I-” Stiles put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly but Lydia nudged it off.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” she met his eyes, drying her face with the sleeve of the hoodie she’d borrowed from him. “It’s nothing,” Lydia lied.

“It’s not nothing. You’re hurt. And I want to-”

“I don’t care what you want!” Lydia cut him off once more, raising her voice. “All this time, I… I thought…” she drifted off, tilting her head to the right.

Lydia let out a humourless laugh, “Forget it, Stiles. This is why I never wanted to find out my SCENTS in the first place. To avoid this. I never should’ve OPENED my HOURGLASS. I never wanted to until you told me to. I never wanted to put trust in this foul thing; I was  _ convinced  _ that picking a SOULMATE was  _ my  _ choice, but  _ you  _ made me believe that it’s real.”

“But-”

“This never happened. Right?” Lydia turned to him abruptly, leaning close to his face in desperation. Stiles froze with his mouth open, studying each tear that lingered at Lydia’s eyelashes. He’d only seen her up this close once, under much different circumstances. Before he could stop himself, he pictured kissing Lydia, how right it’d felt, how his heart ached when Lydia pulled away. ‘ _ Why did she _ ,’ he thought suddenly. Maybe if Lydia had kissed him a second longer, they wouldn’t be crying on his porch now. If Lydia had kissed him a second longer, he could’ve had more time to realise that whatever he felt towards her wasn’t just platonic. He didn’t love Scott like he did Lydia. Scott didn’t make his stomach churn at the sound of his laughter like Lydia’s did. Maybe Stiles  _ did  _ love her like she loved him. He glanced over at the NECKLACE he’d thrown on the porch, which seemed to be mocking him, screaming ‘but she isn’t your SOULMATE’.

“We can’t let this change anything,” Lydia said despairingly, “Friends for a lifetime? Right?” she pulled out her pinky finger between their heaving chests.

“We said that a forever ago,” said Stiles. Lydia dropped the hand on her lap.

“That’s how long you promised we’d stay together,” Lydia squeaked out, her voice as broken as Stiles’ insides, shattered from avoiding the pull that tried to drag him towards Lydia.

“Not like this,” Stiles declared. “Not if you  _ love  _ me while the ELIXIR is-”

“Save it,” Lydia jutted out her chin. “Promise me that this won’t change anything.”

The door opened again but neither of them moved.

“Stiles, the candles are almost out,” Kira’s voice called from the doorway now.

“Stiles,” Lydia ignored Kira’s arrival. “Promise me.”

“I can’t,” Stiles shook his head, watching Lydia’s eyes darken. “I think you should go,” he added without blinking.

Lydia gaped, “You’re asking me to leave? Now?”

“I…” Stiles’ body was tearing him apart; his mind believed the power of the ELIXIR but his heart trusted Lydia. “I just can’t do this now. I thought you might’ve been… I thought I might… But then the SCENTS… And now I’m really confused… I’m sorry.”

Stiles picked up his no longer glowing NECKLACE from the ground, avoiding Lydia’s piercing gaze and walked away from her, his legs feeling a lot like jelly. Kira still stood in the doorway with her face as pale as snow, moving aside to let Stiles through before following him inside.

“What on Earth did just happen?” Kira cornered him the moment the door shut.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Stiles, blinking away his last tears.

Kira looked at him in disbelief, “You just  _ banished  _ Lydia from your house. I think you have to. The cake can wait.”

Stiles stared at his feet, restraining himself from shouting back at Kira. He breathed heavily for what felt like an hour, trying to calm down. Kira waited patiently, pressing her back against the wall beside Stiles.

“Lydia says we’re soulmates,” said Stiles shakily. “But we’re not, not according to the ELIXIR at least. My SCENTS aren’t her and hers aren’t me,” Stiles scolded, clutching his HOURGLASS he was suddenly very pissed off at.

Kira glowered at him, “I knew you were oblivious but I had no idea you were stupid, too,” she sneered. “It’s not just Lydia who thinks you two are SOULMATES. It’s  _ everyone _ .”

“That doesn’t matter because I can’t PLACE-”

Kira put up her hand, stopping him, “Do you love her?”

Stiles gaped at her, caught off guard. ‘You do’, said a part of him. ‘You’re not supposed to,’ said another. But Stiles was growing tired of listening to the second.

“I think so,” he said slowly. “I do,” he straightened up, speaking more confidently.

“There you go,” Kira’s frown turned into a proud smug.

“But the SCENTS-”

“Oh, shut up, Stiles,” Kira cut him off. “If you trust the ELIXIR over your friends, over  _ Lydia _ , here’s something,” she threw her head back determinately. “Did you know that the first time two SOULMATES kiss, their NECKLACES glow red, like they’re heating up? Up until the second they pull away.”

“What?”

“It’s something I noticed when I kissed Malia for the first time. I looked it up and it’s true. No one ever talks about it but there’s been some research-”

“Why are you saying this?” Stiles asked slowly, his muscles tensing up.

“When you and Lydia kissed on her birthday, both of your NECKLACES glowed red,” said Kira. “I told her about it but she wouldn’t believe me. I suppose she did after all since she OPENED the HOURGLASS anyway. She didn’t believe in the ELIXIR but she still did it. For you.”

Stiles retreated from the wall, struck by a memory. He thought he’d imagined it, assumed the fairy lights had reflected in Lydia’s NECKLACE. Then he remembered the heat rising from his chest that he blamed on the same feeling that caused the butterflies. Had it been his NECKLACE all along? 

“What did I do?” asked Stiles suddenly, pacing around the hallway. “Kira, what have I done?” he glanced at her despairingly.

“Rejected your SOULMATE and let her wander off,” said Kira with an amused expression.

“What do I do now?” Stiles cried out.

“Go after her?” Kira noted as though it was obvious. “Find her! SOULMATES are good at that.”

“But the cake-”

“The cake can wait,” Kira repeated impatiently, nudging him with her shoulder. “Go now!”

Stiles shot one last glance at her before clasping his NECKLACE back around his neck, turning on his heel and storming out of the door. As he’d expected, Lydia was no longer on the porch, nor the street. He ran down the driveway, stopping at the pavement. He looked right and left, trying to decide which way she could’ve gone. Despite an unexplainable pull to the left, Stiles settled for right, the way to Lydia’s house.

Once he’d reached her driveway, Stiles slowed down. Lydia’s window was hidden in shadows but the light in her kitchen beamed through the closed blinds. With his heart racing in his ears, Stiles rang the doorbell.

Within what felt like an hour, Lydia’s mum appeared in the doorway, “Stiles? What are you doing here?” she asked curiously, holding the sides of her nightgown together.

“Is Lydia…” Stiles panted. “Is she here?”

Natalie raised an eyebrow suspiciously, “She’s supposed to be at your party now, I haven’t seen her. Is everything alright?” worry crept into her voice. Stiles frowned; where had she gone?

“Yes, I just messed up and…” Stiles paused, in no mood to give Lydia’s mum a heart attack by telling her he was her daughter’s SOULMATE just yet. “Thank you,” he said simply, waving an awkward goodbye before darting back onto the streetlamp illuminated street.

Stiles stopped in the middle of the road; he hadn’t a clue where to go now. He pulled out his phone, ringing Lydia but the line cut off before he’d even heard the first beep. Remembering the pull he’d felt minutes ago, Stiles started striding towards the direction he came from.

‘ _ Think, Stiles, think! _ ’ he repeated in his head, searching for any memory, any place in Beacon Hills Lydia had told him she’d go to if she was upset, yet nothing came up.

‘ _ Find her! SOULMATES are good at that _ ,’ Kira’s voice turned up in his mind. He couldn’t understand what she’d meant. He reached for his phone again, wanting to call Kira for guidance, but as he typed out his passcode, his fingers froze.

On his lock screen was a picture of him and Lydia on a field trip to San Francisco from what could’ve been two years ago, a picture Scott had taken of them shortly after the two friends had made up. Fifteen-year-old Lydia and Stiles were laughing with their eyes shut and arms around each other’s back with the sea waves threatening to creep up on them from behind. Stiles still remembered the salty, tear-like taste in his mouth when Lydia had splashed him after.

A realisation hit him as he recalled one of the SCENTS Lydia had mumbled out to him by the pool of her house only weeks ago.

> Sea salt.

He could PLACE  _ himself  _ in Lydia’s SCENTS.

After the first PLACEMENT, the rest came to him almost effortlessly. He paced around the pavement, searching through the memories attached to his newly discovered PLACEMENTS as he considered the strange pull.

‘ _ Of course _ ,’ he realised, freezing in his spot. Stiles glanced in the direction of the pull, wanting to laugh at how obvious it was.

As the sunset gave out its final colours and the sky turned into a shade of blue, Stiles inhaled deeply and headed down the street towards his old primary school.

* * *

_ dandelions and vanilla  _ ( _ vol.  _ **VIII** _ ; age  _ **XVII** )

The playground, at which they’d use to empty their lunchboxes, seemed to have reduced twice in size as Stiles spotted its shadowy shape from the meadow’s side of the fence. The hole they’d use to crawl through to pick the dandelions and squeeze out their milk, however, had grown with Stiles.

As Stiles sneaked through the wired fence, a human-shaped figure - no \- _Lydia_ came into his view. Beside the swings, which swayed faintly in the wind, she sat in the grass with her knees pulled up to her chest. Surrounded by the sounds of nothing but the distant cars passing on the highway and the grasshoppers woken up from their winter sleep, Lydia could’ve heard Stiles’s arrival even if he’d floated over the ground. Lydia’s gaze lingered on the meadow on the other side of the fence as Stiles settled down on the ground a good few feet from her, but he knew she was aware of his presence.

Lydia didn’t ask how he’d found her. She didn’t glare or shout at him. She didn’t even look at him.

“I can’t fit in the swings anymore,” Lydia croaked out, making it obvious that her last tears hadn’t yet dried. “We’ve grown up, Stiles,” she scoffed.

Stiles let the almost-silence surround them, studying the playground he’d spent half his childhood at with Lydia by his side, now rusty. Just like the rain had coloured the metal brown, his own skin was covered in spots -  _ bruised  _ by the salty liquid that occasionally fell from his eyelashes.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” asked Stiles, not expecting a response. “We used to sit on these swings and talked about how one day our HOURGLASSES would glow, thinking it was so far away. Yet here we are now.”

“Neither of our HOURGLASSES are glowing anymore,” declared Lydia, failing to conceal a fair bit of bitterness in her tone. She moved her hand to the grass, picking some apart nervously.

“They  _ could _ glow one more time,” said Stiles. Finally, Lydia looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion. In a matter of seconds, she arose from the ground and paced around until stopping in front of him.

“Stiles, you were right. I was just imagining the PLACEMENTS. I wanted it to be you, but…” Lydia rambled on, not really noticing Stiles standing up, too. “I don’t ever want to lose you, whether we’re SOULMATES or not, and, really, it’s fine, I’ll just learn how to move on and-” Lydia paused abruptly as Stiles placed one hand on her shoulder and his index finger on her lips.

“Strawberries, like your hair, right?” Stiles whispered, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear like he’d wanted to one too many times before. Lydia froze, staring at him wide-eyed. “Strawberry blonde, like Ariel’s, you told me once. Then there's the book pages. You're smart. You're probably the smartest person I have ever known, smarter than any potion and certainly smarter than me,” Stiles let out a small laugh, brushing his fingers against her cheek now. “And then there's the vanilla. I can't quite place it yet. But I know it's you.”

Lydia’s lips parted as Stiles wiped a tear off the corner of her mouth. “You…” she scrambled for words, her eyes shifting from side to side in disbelief. “You  _ do  _ think I'm your SOULMATE?”

“I  _ know  _ you are,” he corrected her. “Not just because of some potion, though.”

“Why else?” whispered Lydia, melting under Stiles’ hand cupping her cheek. He’d never realised how much he’d longed for tracing his fingers over her skin until now. Each little touch over the years he regarded as a step towards discovering why he’d started it in the first place.

“Because I love you.”

Stiles could  _ hear  _ Lydia’s heartbeat almost double in pace, and so did his. Lydia slowly grew a smile until her cheeks dimpled, looking up at him with the same shining eyes he’d spotted before. “I think I always had but I found it too difficult to admit it,” he explained before Lydia could ask.

“Always?”

Stiles nodded slightly, “More than enough for a lifetime, if that’s fine by you.”

In response, Lydia got on her tiptoes and wrapped both of her arms around Stiles’ waist, chuckling with her face pressed against his shoulder. Stiles put his arms over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his chest.

They stayed like that, with their bodies intertwined, until Lydia leaned back eventually, looking up at him expectantly, “So?”

“So,” Stiles repeated; he hadn’t quite prepared himself for this part yet.

“Do you want to go back to your party or…?”

“I really don’t,” Stiles shook his head, smiling down at her determinately.

“Then what are we-” Lydia started.

“Do you have your NECKLACE with you?” Stiles asked at the same time.

He could see Lydia’s cheeks flush red even in the dark. She nodded, pulling her HOURGLASS over her borrowed hoodie with trembling fingers, “Allison wanted me to bring it in case you ended up wanting to-” 

“CONJOIN?” Stiles finished for her. “Do you want to?”

“I do,” Lydia beamed at him. “But I’m not really sure how it’s done,” she admitted, turning her chin down.

“This is when watching SOULMATE movies comes in handy,” said Stiles with a chuckle. “Just copy me.”

“I know the first part,” said Lydia, putting her arms behind her back but Stiles stopped them mid-air, “Let me.”

More heat rose to her cheeks but she turned around slowly, putting her hair to one side. The second Stiles’ fingers skimmed over the NECKLACE, freeing its clasp, electricity emitted from the metal onto his skin. As Lydia faced him again, Stiles lingered his gaze on the second ever HOURGLASS he’d held in his hand, appreciating the carvings over its side unique to Lydia’s SOUL. As Stiles started to turn around, Lydia’s hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. She leaned in close to his chest, moving the clasp of his NECKLACE to the side. Her breath danced over the skin of his neck, growing faster, as did his heartbeat the longer Lydia’s fingers struggled to unclasp his necklace. When Stiles’ HOURGLASS landed on her palm, Lydia didn’t bother leaning away.

“Now you move mine to your chest as I move yours,” Stiles whispered as there was no need to speak louder with Lydia’s ear so close to his mouth. They followed his instructions. The moment they placed the other’s HOURGLASS over where their own had stood for seventeen years, the ELIXIR turned into a vibrant red, glowing so brightly, the light coloured their faces red, too.

“They  _ could _ glow one more time,” Lydia quoted Stiles, hit by the realisation. Stiles couldn’t stop his smile from growing - here he was, standing before his SOULMATE, his dearest friend, the girl he hadn’t even realised he’d loved for half of his life until this evening, in the light of their glowing ELIXIR. Stiles had watched a lot of SOULMATE movies, but nothing could top the reality, the joy capturing every cell in his body.

“Now we connect the bottom halves of our HOURGLASSES,” instructed Stiles. “Look at that, perfect match,” he said when the round parts fit together, clicking at a single turn, “Hold out your other hand out under it.”

“And now push it back.”

They carried out his final instruction, watching the bottom part of their HOURGLASSES detach from the glass as two silver rings fell onto their palms with a quiet thud. On their insides, each of their names glowed in red momentarily, like they’d just been taken out of a fire, before the engraved letters turned dark.

Without another word, Stiles put the ring with his name on Lydia’s middle finger, as did Lydia with hers. They bored into each other’s eyes, and, for the first time in his life, Stiles felt as if he was whole. 

“I’m so happy it  _ is  _ you,” said Lydia. “You know, I almost gave up on you,” she admitted, pinching her lips.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Stiles said regrettably. “Never again, though.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Lydia turned her head down shyly, her hair tickling Stiles’ chin and sending chills over his skin. Once again, Stiles cupped her cheek, picking her head back up, “Just so you know,” said Stiles. “It wasn’t  _ just  _ a kiss.”

Lydia didn’t move. Stiles watched the dim glow from their ELIXIR dancing in her eyes before he closed the distance between their lips. He moved his mouth in sync with hers only once before another realisation struck him. He leaned away, pressing his forehead against Lydia’s as he muttered something about her vanilla lipstick. Soon enough, Lydia’s lips were back on his as their eyes fluttered shut. Both of their NECKLACES slipped through their fingers, falling flat on the grass, as their hands got caught up in each other’s hair, then travelling down to their backs.

By the time they leaned away, both their hearts shared the same beat, throbbing against their chest - well, - together, just like they’d promised.

“Up for some cake?” asked Stiles with his hand on Lydia’s back. “I kind of left people hanging back at the party.”

“They must hate you,” Lydia faked her serious tone. “Cake’s the best part about these parties.”

“To _them_ , maybe,” argued Stiles. “This part was _my_ favourite.”

Without hesitation, Lydia pushed her lips onto his another time. “So was mine,” she said, leaning away.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed this <3
> 
> i took a little break from writing because i simply had one too many uni assignments to complete over the break but here's what i spent this last week coming up with. this is definitely my favourite stydia piece i've written this far. i sort of want to develop this universe even further as i really enjoyed writing about this soulmate elixir, maybe not with stydia, though! 
> 
> please, please comment all your thoughts!!! 
> 
> \- dylan, @FORLYDlA on twitter
> 
> p.s. please do NOT steal my idea of soulmates


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